


The Ones We've Lost Along the Way

by staccato_stop



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV First Person, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:46:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato_stop/pseuds/staccato_stop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My feet sink into the dry sand and we're stymied once again. I stare up at the house. It's full of people who couldn't possibly understand who we are or what it means that another one of us is gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ones We've Lost Along the Way

**Trigger warning for mentions and discussions of suicide.**

Note: I recently attended the funeral of a former classmate who committed suicide. This story evolved from that experience.

**THE ONES WE'VE LOST ALONG THE WAY**

They're calling it an accident. A freak occurrence. Rip tides, undertow, fatigue, but Annie was a strong swimmer. I guess she wasn't strong enough that day. Now little Finn is all alone with his father's face and his mother's smile. He's old enough to realize what he's lost, but not old enough to understand. Needless to say, the last few days have been a fucking shit show. Annie's parents are gone, Finnick's too. Now, Finn is my responsibility because Annie Cresta's at the bottom of the fucking ocean.  

The funeral is today. I'm stuffed into a borrowed black dress culled from Annie's closet. Finn's bleary eyed and sullen. He's four sturdy years of stubborn sucking relentlessly on a wrinkled thumb. I'm aching for a drink. My brain is screaming for relief, but I don't know, it seems important that today I'm not drunk. My hands shake slightly as I tie Finn's shoes. His sticky hand rests on my shoulder. He smells of soap, the ocean and of something else, something I can't quite determine. It's somehow familiar, but foreign. He's so young, so unfinished. I look down at my hands shaking from withdrawal. I don't think these hands are suitable for much, certainly not raising a child. My stomach twists and I choke back vomit. The crunch of cars on gravel fills the room. I make a final futile attempt to flatten Finn's hair. I stand up and take in the sight of us in the tall hall mirror. We're pale and drawn. We're skin stretched too thin with feelings too numerous to count. We're standing. We're doing this. Finn jams his thumb back into his mouth. He laces his other slimy fingers into mine.

"Ready, buddy?"

 "I don't want to."

"I know." I don't want to either. "We're going to say goodbye to mommy."

"I don't want to."

"I know." I don't want to either. I strengthen my hold on his hand. He sniffles in response. The doorbell rings loud and grating. Here we go.

"It's open!" I yell.

I could open the door, but I'm stuck still in the hall staring at the reflection of Finn and I framed in the mirror. Johanna Mason and the spawn of Finnick Odair. The door swings open and the victors of District 12 hesitantly stumble inside.

* * *

 

Today is an ordinary day. There's no hellish heat or howling winds to distinguish this day from any other painfully bland summer day. The small group gathers and we head down across the sand. Finn grips my hand tightly as we stare out at the ocean. There's no body to encircle, so we stand shoulder to shoulder gazing out at the horizon with the waves lapping at our toes. We throw handfuls of flowers into the water. Daisies, Annie's favorite. It's sentimental in a way that grates at me.

I want to scream. I want to rail at her and the mess she left behind. The kid deserves better. My head is pounding. Finn presses his tiny face into my side. He would disappear into my dress if he could. I understand the impulse. The tide's going out, pulling away our flowers and our goodbyes. Finn wipes at his snotty nose and twines his fingers in my dress. It's too much. My skin is crawling with irritation. He's too much. She's asked too much of me. The daisies float out to see and I fight the urge to join them. I dig my heels into the soft sand. He sniffles and the tears start again. And I can't. I can't raise a child. I can't tell the kid it'll all be okay. He's standing at his mother's funeral surrounded by murders. I lunge forward and wade into the water. Finn screams. Peeta too, I think. All I can see is the water. All I can hear is the waves. I yank off my borrowed heels and fling the wildly out to sea. The water's taken so much from me. I scream. It's guttural and erupts painfully from my throat. I thrash at the water. These clothes are constricting, but my hand can't work the fasteners. I try to pull the dress off, but the weight of the water leaves me tangled and stuck. I jump at the touch of someone's hands on me.

"Damn it, Johanna! Stop. Stop!" Her voice is shrill and her hands are rough. "Stop moving!"

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe!" I yell, my hands still grabbing at the fabric.

There are other hands on me now. Strong hands, rough hands. The scent of liquor and sweat surrounds me. Haymitch has me trapped. I'm held tightly against his chest.

"Just ride it out, kid. That's it. Just ride it out." His words are soft and calm.

I kick at the water until I feel the last furious strain of anger evaporate. I'm settled. I'm fine. The red haze has gone and the claustrophobic pinch of sticky fingers has vanished.

"You all right, Jo? I'm going to let you go."

I nod meekly. Haymitch's death grip relents. I fall forward into the water. With steadier hands, I remove the offending, oppressive swathe of black cotton. I spin manically towards the shore.

"Where's Finn?" My voice is high. "Tell me he didn't see that."

"Beetee took him inside."

Peeta's voice is even and calm, but his eyes betray him. I see the fear, the concern, the panic. It's on all their faces, this strange mixture of emotion. There's worry for me, but also the looming memory of their moments of madness. We've all been bedraggled and screaming. We're all living on the verge.

"I need a drink." I sputter.

Haymitch draws a flask from his pocket. "Catch."

"Thanks."

I wipe at my mouth with the back of my hand. My saltwater hardened hair is plastered to my face. I feel dirty and worn. They've gathered like a jury on the shore. Their hard eyes watch me cautiously. I sway in the sea and stare right back. Time has not been kind to them either. Katniss is thin and drawn. Peeta is distant. Their standing side by side, but he's miles away. His arms remain firmly crossed against his chest. Haymitch is yellow. The rate he's going we'll be gathered together for him next. Inside a child cries for his lost mother held in the arms of a stranger. I'm almost too drained to care.

"We should get inside. Finn shouldn’t be alone." I say.

"Here take my jacket." Peeta drapes his jacket over my shoulders. I wrap up in what I didn't realize was a familiar scent.

"Thanks."

"No problem." His smile is small and doesn't quite reach his eyes, but it’s a comfort all the same.

My feet sink into the dry sand and we're stymied once again. I stare up at the house. It's full of people who couldn't possibly understand who we are or what it means that another one of us is gone. Extinction is coming. Soon, there won't be any of us left. We'll just be old names in new textbooks. I feel a strange sense of power standing on the sand with my fellow soldiers, victors, survivors, friends. There's something powerful in a united front, in a sharing of profound sadness. We drift apart, but we always find our way back to each other. Shoulder to shoulder, ready to fight the next war, overcome our next battle. My hands still shake. I take another swig from the flask. I nudge Peeta and offer him a pull. There's a momentary hesitation before he accepts the flask. He grimaces at the taste and passes the drink to Katniss and so on down the line. Bolstered with liquid courage we slog back across the sand.  

* * *

 

As the house empties of guests, we drift back to the sand. Pulled like magnets into the moonlight, back to the water. We build a fire. A raging monster of flames and fury. Finn falls asleep on Haymitch's lap. I stare through the heat-blurred air. The waves eat away at the shoreline washing in a mess of things. Shells and sea weed, pebbles rubbed smooth, but not Annie. There's not a trace of Annie Odair. She's been washed away clean.

"What do you think happened out there?" Peeta asks in a quiet tone.

"She died."

It's not the answer to his question. I don't have an answer to that question. We don't get know what she felt in that moment. I just hope she found peace. I look at Finn cuddled in Haymitch's lap. It's hard to take care of someone else when you can't take care of yourself. Our conversation tapers off and we settle into silence. The crash of the ocean and the crackle of the wood surround me. It's calming like a lullaby, but I'm spoiling for a confrontation and the tension between Katniss and Peeta is too thick to ignore.   

"What the fuck's wrong with you two?" 

Haymitch snorts into his drink.

Katniss glares. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." I mock.

"Fuck you, Johanna."

"I just call it like I see it."

"Why don’t you worry about yourself? Have another drink maybe."

"How about you go fuck yourself?"

"Guys, let's not do this." Peeta intervenes. Ever the sane man. "Come on."

"No. Why are you even here?"

She stares at me wide eyed and slack jawed. "What do you mean?" She stammers after a lull.

"Because that's what you do." Haymitch answers. If I had never met the man, I'd say he looked wise in the glow cast by the fire.   

Katniss scratches absently at her cheek. "You called and we came. We didn't even think about it." I forget she's the girl who volunteered for her sister without a thought.

Peeta nods. "Did you really think we're just going to leave you here?"

"Annie did." I'm not trying to be rude. I'm afraid to look up after that statement. I draw an aimless circle in the sand until I start to feel the tears running down my face. I burrow my head into my knees.

"Annie did." Peeta murmurs.   

There are so many ways a body can fail. So many things that can get fucked up in a day. There's just so much shit that's out of your hands. I've thought about it. I've ran a razor down my arm and shot poison into my veins. It's an oddly brave thing. It's a grotesquely selfish thing. It's horrible in a way that destroys the people left behind. I can't wrap my head around it. I can't forget the look on Finn's face. I can't forget the taste of bile in my mouth. I hate her and I'm so sad for her. I don't know how to remedy that.    

"We'll be okay." Haymitch says. He's speaks with such certainty, with such a sturdy resolve. I want to believe him. I need to believe him. I lost my optimism a long time ago. I know I'm not the only one. They made us murders and then they tortured us. They killed Prim, Peeta and Haymitch's entire family. They fucked with Peeta's head. They burned Katniss. Finnick died. Annie drowned. But, I guess we're all here on this beach. We're together and we're mostly intact. We won. Sometimes, I forget that.

"We should get the kid to bed." My voice is rough and thick with tears. I'm an exposed nerve at this point. This day rubbed me raw.

"Yeah." Peeta agrees, but no one moves. We don't really have anywhere to be. It's probably safer to let Finn sleep. We fall back into silences. Katniss spreads out on the ground and stares up at the stars. Peeta builds a castle in the sand. Haymitch falls asleep in his chair. I curl up and watch the tide goes back out. I watch Peeta check on all of us when he thinks we can't see. I watch the fire die down. I shiver in the cold night air.

"It's cold." I rub my hands together.

"Yeah. Time to head in." Peeta answers, his hands still molding and building.

"That's pretty impressive."

"Thanks." He grins. He finishes one last tower and then moves slowly to his feet. He extends his hand to me and helps pull me to my feet. We look down and admire his work. "Want to destroy it?" He smirks and there's something so childish in that expression. He's a mischievous boy plotting in the moonlight.

"Hells yeah. You know me." He grabs my hand. We jump up and down in the sand, laughing like kids. It's not funny, but it is. I've seen Peeta Mellark unmade. It's nice to hold his hand and laugh in the sand. Katniss stirs on the sand. Peeta turns attentively.

"I'll get her. You get Haymitch." The way he looks at her makes my stomach twist. There's so much care in that gaze. He crouches down and runs a hand down her cheek. "Come on Everdeen. Let's get you into a bed." It's the first time they've spoken to each other today. Her eyes open and she rests her hand on his. It's a quiet moment and it feels like an intrusion to have observed this intimacy.

I pull a warm and heavy Finn from Haymitch's arms. His eyes flutter open, but only for a moment. He settles sleepily back on my shoulder. I shake Haymitch with my free hand. His eyes shot open and he lurches forward.

"Let's go inside. It's cold."

He nods blearily and stumbles groggily to his feet. "Want me to take him?"

I shift his weight to my hip. "No. I got him."

We meander back towards the house. Haymitch is a sure and solid presence at my side. Finn is a welcome weight. Peeta and Katniss are comforting shadows in the periphery. The house is dark as we tumble inside. We make our way up the stairs, but find that we cannot part at our respective doorways. Annie's door firmly shut looms like a specter at the end of the hall. Finn grows heavy on my hip.

I open my door and step inside. "Night guys." The words are smaller than I intended. Their response is equally sad. I move towards the bed and lay Finn down. It's a familiar sight, it's just the circumstance is all wrong. It's not Finn sneaking into my bed so we can read a story after Annie has fallen asleep. It's a kid too scared and confused to sleep in his own bed. I brush the hair from his face. He looks so much like his father it hurts my heart. I only hope I can raise a kid half as beautiful and kind as his parents were.

"Johanna?" I hear my name whispered from the hall. "Can we come in?"

"Yeah, sure." I answer confused at the question.

Katniss comes into the room dragging her mattress and blankets beside her. "We were thinking sleep over." Peeta and a tired Haymitch follow close on her heels.

I laugh. There are tears pricking at my eyes and I'm not embarrassed. "Yeah. Sounds good. None of you better fucking snore."

"You snore!" Katniss accused loudly. She covers her mouth quickly, but Finn doesn't stir.

"I do not." I'm rightfully indignant. She glares knowingly and continues to set up her blankets. Peeta shakes his head. "I don't snore." I assert once more.

"You do, like a coal miner." She settles and Peeta follows suit. Haymitch is already asleep, sprawled on his back. He releases an ungodly snore.

We burst into giggles. "Of course, Haymitch snores." I climb under my covers. I switch off the bedside lamp. "Night guys."

My hair smells like fire in the morning. The day is windblown, cold, and forlorn. My head throbs. Finn cries all morning. Peeta makes amazing pancakes. We're so far from okay it's laughable. But, we're here. So we go on. Finn laughs at a silly face that Haymitch pulls and my heart skips a beat. Katniss and Peeta wash the dishes together. Elbow to elbow they work through their shit with sudsy water. The weather breaks and the sun feels nice on my skin. Annie's gone, but we're still here.

 **END**   

 


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